


That Old Time Rock 'N' Roll | The Kind of Music That Soothes the Soul

by bisexualkiseryouta



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, M/M, Music AU, Pianist!Midorima, cellist!murasakibara, drummer!kagami, guitarist!ogiwara, he basically opens everyone else's eyes to the beauty of rock, idk man, kuroko wants to be a rock star, lead guitar!aomine, music is life, pop idol!kise, rock singer!kuroko, violinist!Akashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualkiseryouta/pseuds/bisexualkiseryouta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fifth grade, Ogiwara Shigehiro introduces his best friend, Kuroko Tetsuya, to the world of rock 'n' roll. The boy feels an immediate connection to the music and- over the course of the next few years- finds himself immersed in the underground world of sex, drugs, and rock. While Kuroko struggles with the dark side of the new world he loves, he slowly introduces those around him to the beauty and unity that rock music can bring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old Time Rock 'N' Roll | The Kind of Music That Soothes the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sneaking into a club, Kuroko Tetsuya discovers the beauty of rock 'n' roll and decides that he wants to make people feel the way that he felt in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...  
> I don't really know what to say about this fic, and I usually have a LOT to say about the stuff I write. I just love the idea of Kuroko- Mr. Poker Face Literature Nerd Jerk Butt- having this intense connection with rock music and kind of falling into the seedy underground that rock used to always be connected with- you know the whole non-conformist kind of deal like back in the 80s.  
> Also, hello, Kuroko in leather with thick eyeliner and tattoos?? Who could resist that?  
> And the way he experiences rock is kind of based off of how I've felt at some of the concerts I've been to, so, sorry if he's a bit OOC or whatevs.  
> Comments, kudos, criticism - always welcome.

Rock concerts, Kuroko finds, can be something akin to a religious experience.

 _“Ogiwara-kun, are you sure…?”_ Kuroko’s voice is quiet—oh so quiet—as the two boys pick their way through the alley behind the club, careful to be as silent as possible, even though their sneaking is masked by the loud music pounding out of the building.  _You can never be too safe,_ Ogiwara claimed, a knowing look in his eyes. It’s no secret between the two that Ogiwara has gotten caught doing this exact thing—sneaking into a club when they are very,  _very_ underage just to see a band play—countless times before. The dark orange-haired boy assured Kuroko that they definitely would not get caught, and Kuroko—for some reason—believed him.

The boy has yet to decide whether trusting his friend was a horrible decision or not.

 _“Of course. Don’t worry, Kuroko! You’ll love it!”_ The boy smiles back at him, over his shoulder, looking so happy and excited that Kuroko can’t bring himself to worry anymore and dampen his friend’s mood.  _“Alright, Ogiwara-kun. I trust you.”_

Ogiwara stops suddenly, and Kuroko narrowly keeps from running straight into his back. The taller boy puts a finger to his lips, eyes darting up to a window that’s cracked open that happens to be situated right above them, just out of their reach. Kuroko raises his eyebrows slightly as if to ask _how they’re supposed to get up there_. A proud smile on his lips, Ogiwara pulls a wooden crate from a particularly dark portion of the alley, using it as a makeshift step ladder. _“Ogiwara-kun is a very shady person.”_

 _"Ha- maybe just a little bit!”_ Ogiwara rubs the back of his head sheepishly before gesturing for Kuroko to climb the crate.  _“You first, okay? I can help push you up if you need.”_

 Kuroko clambers up onto the wooden crate and stands on his tip toes to shove the window open a bit wider, careful to keep his balance. The crate doesn’t feel very sturdy and, if he fell right now, he’s sure they’d get caught, and his parents probably wouldn’t let him sleep over at Ogiwara’s house ever again if they found out. The smaller boy hooks an elbow over the window sill, hefting himself up as best he can, eventually feeling Ogiwara grabbing his legs and pushing him up, up,  _up_  into a small, dirty bathroom.

Kuroko manages to land on his hands on the floor and not his face; he thinks he might have gotten sick if his face came into contact with the sticky liquid that’s in random puddles around the room. He tries not to think too much about what it is. Ogiwara falls into the room behind him and, unluckily, face plants in a particularly deep puddle of the questionably colored substance.  _“Ew!”_ The boy whines, rubbing his cheeks with the sleeves of his hoodie, lips twisted in a disgusted grimace. Kuroko presses the back of his hand to his lips to stifle a giggle at his friend’s expression.  _“Bah- whatever. Let’s go, Kuroko!”_ Ogiwara’s hand grabs the hand not covering his mouth and the boy drags him from the dirty bathroom down a dark hallway. Odd noises come from couples all tangled up in the shadows, dim lights hiding where their wandering hands are on each other’s bodies.  _The club is pretty rundown and skeevy, but it always has the best music_ , Ogiwara warned him earlier, shrugging as if to say the disgusting state of the club was worth braving for his precious music.

 Suddenly, the dark hallway opens up into a large room with a stage in the front and crowds of people swarming on the open floor, packed together like sardines. The band on the stage is all decked out in the most outrageous costumes Kuroko has seen- their faces are covered in paint and piercings and their hair is spiked or shaved or braided and their clothing has little metal spikes and chains and lots of leather. Fearful, Kuroko moves closer to his friend, almost hiding behind him, because the people on the floor don’t look any more normal than the ones on stage. Most of the women’s outfits make him blush and look away like the gentleman he was raised to be—but Ogiwara seems unfazed. In fact, the taller boy seems almost giddy and refreshed by the sight of the band and the club goers; he looks like he…belongs here, with this people, who look like Kuroko’s parents’ worst nightmares. His eyes gleam with excitement as the lead singer strums the opening chords to a song, pressing his mouth close to the microphone.

“This next song is a cover of a song that really spoke to us. I hope you guys enjoy it.” Kuroko is a little surprised by the lyrical quality of the man’s voice—it’s very pleasing to the ears. It also sounds young—the lead singer is probably no more than a teenager, but it’s hard to tell with the black and white paint covering his face.  _“They paint their faces like a really popular, old band called KISS. Cool, huh?”_ Ogiwara whispers, lips close enough to touch Kuroko’s ear, breath hot and moist against the side of his neck. Kuroko nods because—well. Because Ogiwara is expecting a nod, and Kuroko doesn’t want to disappoint his friend. The dark-haired boy turns back to the stage once Kuroko nods, almost bouncing on his feet in excitement as the band begins to play. Kuroko has the urge to press his hands over his ears—the music is just too  _loud_. He can feel the drum in his bones and the guitar in his heart and it is the most uncomfortable thing he has felt in his short life and he just can’t _take it_ —

The world seems to stop when the lead lets loose a verse of the song, belting it out over the thrumming of the drums and the guitars, voice cutting through the uncomfortable haze that seems to fill the club. Kuroko forgets about the moaning couples in the hallway and the dirty bathroom floor and the girl whose shirt is nothing but hastily strung together threads that barely cover her breasts; he forgets about Ogiwara’s sweaty palm, still pressed against his own even as his friend loses himself in the song, and about the discomfort of the instruments making every bit of himself ache with the vibrations.

All Kuroko knows is that this moment is something life changing. His heart beats faster and his breathing is shallow and his eyes are focused on the stage, unblinking. The music is flooding through his body, banging around inside of him, making him feel like he’s a part of this crowd—like the crowd isn’t even a crowd anymore, just a single being swaying and dancing all together, like they’re all just an extension of himself—, plucking the chords of his heart. It’s beautiful in a way that no other music he’s ever heard could be: it is pure, unadulterated emotion seeping into him from every direction, destroying him and rebuilding him, ripping him to shreds and piecing him together. It  _hurts_ but it also feels so  _good_. The experience is just a bunch of paradoxes thrown together and it is  _amazing._

The words are unrecognizable over the sound of the instruments—all he can hear is the singer’s voice, but that’s all he needs, the words aren’t all that important, not as important as the _feeling_ —until the chorus that brings the song and the crowd to a climax.

_“Put your hands in the air, if you hear me out there, I’ve been looking for you day and night! Shine a light in the dark; let me see where you are ’cause I’m not gonna leave you behind!_

_"_ _If I told you that you’re not alone and I show you this is where you belong, put your hands in the air, one more time!”_

 Unconsciously, Kuroko has flung his arms in the air as Ogiwara and all the other club goers have, swaying back and forth, dazed and amazed by the feeling of  _rightness_  that fills him. It’s like he’s been searching his whole life to find somewhere he fit- and this place, this moment, is where he _belongs_. The experience is something religious, and he welcomes this music as his god, ready to pay tribute with his entire being.

 After the song ends and the band goes off stage and the club is back to being a drunk-infested dump and the crowd separates into a bunch of individuals that are entirely unconnected, Kuroko can only stare at the stage blankly, unsure of how to deal with the emptiness that comes after the emotional ride of the song. Should he cry? Should he scream? Should he laugh? The catharsis from the song has pulled emotions from the depths of his heart and hung him out to dry; he feels empty, but full. Another paradox. Kuroko stares wide-eyed at the microphone that projected the singer’s glorious voice over the unwashed masses and a wave of desire crashes over him, stronger than anything else he’s ever felt. He has only one thought— _I want that. I want to make people feel this way._

_I want to feel this way all the time._

“Kuroko.” His friend’s voice startles him from his reverie. It also makes him realize that his ears are ringing; the music was much louder than it seemed. Everything sounds far away and like he’s under water.  “Let’s make a band someday, yeah?” Ogiwara’s eyes are still shining and, while Kuroko knows it’s most likely one of those requests you make in the heat of the moment that falls aside and is never realized, he can do nothing but nod, eyes shimmering with the same excitement he’s seen in his friend’s eyes every time he mentioned rock music. Kuroko finally _understands_ it. His mouth feels incredibly dry, but he licks his lips and in a slightly hoarse voice—hoarse because, at some point, he’d begun singing along—replies,

“Definitely, Ogiwara-kun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed- tell me what you thought! I don't bite, and I'm a bit unsure if I'll continue this, so, if you want more and you want to read about sexy times, please tell me so!


End file.
